Under the Gun
by usa123
Summary: Three weeks after the accident, Captain America's presence is required at a hostage situation. Since Steve is still recuperating from his injuries, Bucky must go in his place. Bucky!Cap two-shot. Sequel to Ambush. No slash, no ships. Cover image used with permission.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Cover image is the work of fallenobsidian on tumblr ( (slash)** **post (slash) 94662029743)** **. Used with permission so please don't sue.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

 **Without further ado, part one of Bucky!Cap two-shot...**

* * *

Lenore Marshall was bored out of her mind.

Her internship at Now! gossip magazine had sounded great on paper, promising to introduce her to the business decisions behind running a magazine in an electronic age, but, less than a week in, it had quickly turned into her monitoring the back desk "to be a welcoming face for any visitors _"_. That would have been fine for Lenore…until she found out no one used the back entrance. Just employees who snuck out for smoke breaks.

She'd already done a laundry list of things to stay busy, including cleaning the glass windows, sweeping the entry way, reorganizing the desk she had originally organized last week, defragging the intranet-only computer from the early 2000s, and updating all the hardware drivers; yet, when she looked up at the clock, she still had thirty-seven minutes until her shift was over.

She groaned and dropped her forehead against the metal desk, cupping her hands over her ears to block out the unending yet agonizingly slow ticks of the clock, all the while wondering if this was seriously better than the gen-ed she would have had to take to graduate instead. At this very moment, she was fairly certain that sitting in a lecture hall stressing over assignments and upcoming exams would be more exciting than this.

The ringing phone a few minutes later was a welcome break in the monotonous silence, even though it wasn't her job to answer it—actually interfacing with _real. live._ people was the responsibility of the _real_ employees at the front desk, not the intern who was slowly having the life crushed out of her.

The phone rang a second time, then a third, before Lenore finally rolled her head to the right to glare at the device. Her manager, Darren, was going to be pissed if someone didn't pick up soon. Answering the phone quickly and efficiently was one of the main things he'd harped on in the new hire orientation she'd been forced to attend. People came to Now! with tips about celebrity gossip and, if the Now! employees didn't answer or were rude, the callers could take their news elsewhere.

The phone rang a fourth time.

Maybe she should just answer it. She was definitely capable of taking down the gossip and a name and number. It would better than getting yelled at and possibly fired, especially since the main employees weren't going to admit to letting a call go.

Lenore straightened up and picked up the handset. "Now! Magazine," she chirped with all the enthusiasm she could muster. "How can I help you?"

"I am at Exodus Labs," a man's voice replied. "With nine hostages."

"Hostages?" Lenore repeated as her stomach began to churn uncertainly. Despite her reservations at such a serious opening, if she wanted to work in this industry, she had to remain indifferent, record the details of his scoop and pass it up the chain. If he was telling the truth, this could be a huge scoop for her, which she could use to leverage her way out of the back entrance duty.

She took a deep breath then responded, "Yes, sir. Exodus Labs," as she reached for a pen with a shaking hand.

"Scientists and lab techs mostly," the man continued before breaking off so sharply Lenore was worried the line had been disconnected.

"Sir?"

Suddenly, she heard muffled rustling sounds. "And one executive by the name of Anderson," the man finished. "They're fine for now, but I am armed and will use whatever force necessary to get what I want."

Lenore's breath caught in her throat as she realized the man was no longer reporting a story; he was actively commanding the situation and Lenore was pretty sure she wasn't important enough to get whatever he wanted in exchange for the hostages' lives.

"I'm sorry, sir," she responded as gently as possible, "but I think you have the wrong number. Now! writes about celebrity gossip. You'd be better off calling the local police…or the Avengers' hotline."

"If I wanted the police, I would have called the police. I wanted Now! Now," he chuckled at the word repetition, "I want you to get on the phone with your supervisor and tell them that, if Captain America is not outside the lab in…let's say three hours, since he might not be at home…I will start shooting hostages, one every half hour, until he arrives."

"I want to help you, sir—I really do," she replied, her tone more pleading than she had intended. "I'm not trying to make excuses, but I'm just an intern. No one is going to believe me, which isn't what either of us want. I don't know what you want me to do."

The man snorted derisively. "Escalate the problem, dearie! You are one of the most popular news sites around. I'm sure you can find some way to get in touch with Captain America." There was another silence that left Lenore clutching at the phone with white knuckles. "As for the matter of them believing you…" A split second later, Lenore yanked the phone away from her ear as a loud alarm blared over the line.

"I have pulled the fire alarm," the man now shouted, somewhat redundantly. "Security will be forced to investigate. They will call it in when they can't get into the lab. By that time, I hope to see a publication from your fine company seeking out our beloved Captain."

"Sir, please—"

"The clock is ticking." Then the line disconnected.

For a moment, Lenore sat in a shocked silence, the phone still raised to her ear, as her mind raced to comprehend what had happened. Then, realizing she was working on borrowed time, she snapped into motion and sprinted toward the main newsroom to find Darren and anyone else who would believe her story.

* * *

A huge cloud of steam followed Bucky Barnes as he exited the main bathroom of his and Steve's Brooklyn apartment, wearing an oversized T-shirt and track pants. Rubbing at his wet hair with a towel, he walked into the living room to find Steve in front of the Avengers emergency phone which, surprisingly, was just an old-fashioned rotary with no videochatting capabilities. Tony must have found some humor in that, for his face had practically split in half from his mega-watt grin when he'd handed them to the rest of the team.

"Yes, sir," Steve was saying into the thick red handset, snapping Bucky back to the present. "I'll be there."

He threw the handset into the cradle then spun around, practically crashing into Bucky who had stepped closer in hopes of eavesdropping.

"Who was that?" Barnes asked, his towel falling to the floor as he reached out to steady his friend.

"Fury." Before Bucky could open his mouth to ask what he'd wanted, Steve spoke up again. "There's a hostage situation at the Exodus Labs. The guy in charge is demanding to speak to Captain America in…" he looked at the time on their Blu-ray player, "…two hours and twenty minutes. FBI HRT is already on site. I'm meeting Fury on base in half an hour. You coming with?"

Bucky ignored the last half of the sentence and focused on the part that had sent cold spikes shooting through his stomach. "'Speak' speak, or 'you have to go in there' speak?" he asked as his grip subconsciously tightened on Steve's shoulders.

It had only been six days since the party at Stark Tower and just under three weeks since the accident. Steve had come a long way in the healing process but he wasn't nearly well enough to take on a lunatic. While it was true that he had full range of motion again in the shoulder he'd dislocated, that his punctured lung no longer gave him any issues and that the gunshot wound had faded to a pink scar (though the muscular damage and cracked ribs underneath were mending at a slower rate), the torn ligaments and menisci in his knee had yet to fully heal, as evidenced by the hinged metal brace still bracketing the joint.

"It sounded like the latter." Steve ducked down slightly to try and free himself from Bucky's grip. When he was unsuccessful, he rested his hands on Bucky's forearms and looked his friend in the eye. "I have to go, Buck."

"You can't, Steve. What if he doesn't want to just talk? What if you have to fight? The most you've done in physical therapy is run in the pool."

"He has hostages."

"I heard you Steve," Bucky said slowly, calmly, drawing from all his reserves to stay patient and logical. "But you're not doing them any good if you get yourself killed on your bum knee."

"I'll be fine." Then, without warning, Steve hunched forward, twisted, and slid his shoulders out of Bucky's grip. Unfortunately, after three weeks of unplanned R&R, his body was no longer used to the quick motion. His right knee buckled and he crashed to the ground, releasing a string of expletives that would have made the Commandos proud.

Bucky's heart skipped a beat as he dropped into a crouch beside his friend, cursing up an equally impressive storm. "Please tell me you didn't—"

Steve looked up at Barnes, his expression dark with frustration. "I didn't," he said quietly, scrubbing wistfully at his patella. "My knee is fine. Shoulder and lung too."

Bucky practically melted to the ground in relief, his hand clutching at his chest as he tried to physically force his heart rate back into some sort of sinus rhythm. "Thank god," he finally ground out.

Steve made a non-committal sound in reply. Then, with a grimace, he lifted his right leg and scooted backward until his back was resting against the wall. "But now we have a problem," he said after a moment, " _someone_ has to go."

Bucky was way ahead of him. "We need someone who can fight," he began, ticking points off on his metal fingers. "They also have to have your height and build to fit in your costume."

"Uniform," Steve corrected reflexively, "but yes."

"They have to have your ghostly complexion for the stuff the costume doesn't cover. And they have to be able to use your shield."

Bucky waited for Steve to respond, perhaps even offer a suggestion, but there was only silence. His gut beginning to churn, he turned to find Steve staring at him expectantly, eyebrows touching his hairline.

"Hell no."

Steve's expression fell. "Bucky you have to."

"I can't, Steve."

"Sure you can. We're almost the same height, the uniform will cover your arm—you'd have to shave, but it really won't be—"

"I don't think you understand, Steve: there's no way I can _be_ you." Bucky stared at an particularly interesting pattern in their carpet as he continued, "I don't stand for patriotism, freedom of virtue like you do…I'm the freakin' Winter Soldier: I stand for death, pain and torture."

There was a brief pause before Steve spoke up. "Buck, you know that's not true," he said softly, in a voice tighter than usual.

Recognizing that tone, Bucky look up to find Steve struggling to keep the distressed look off his face. "Quit lookin' at me like that," he scowled, shoving Steve with his metal arm. "I'm not trying to be dramatic. It's just the truth, plain and simple. I'd tip that asshole off before I even got in the door."

"Buck. You're our only option."

Bucky's scowl deepened as he racked his brain for an alternate suggestion…and came up empty. Every super he knew that was currently in town was either the wrong height, build, complexion, gender or had no practice with Steve's shield. The only other person who fit most of that criteria was Barton but he was on an op in parts unknown until the end of next week.

"I still think this is a bad idea," he grumbled after a moment.

Steve's face instantly brightened and he opened his mouth—

Bucky held up his hand. "Don't say anything that is going to make me change my mind."

Steve's jaw clamped closed. Instead he smiled and rested his hand on Bucky's shoulder. "You're gonna do great," he said quickly before using Bucky's shoulder to lever himself to his feet.

"C'mon Buck," he shouted as he walked down the hallway, only slightly favoring his right leg. "You've got a meeting to get to!"

Barnes muttered some obscenities under his breath, cursing this whole situation, before standing up and trailing after his friend.

* * *

"It will never work," Nick Fury stated, half an hour later, as soon as Steve explained their plan.

"That's what I said," Bucky mumbled. His protest was cut off as Steve drove an elbow into his midsection, sending him doubling over.

"We're out of options sir," Steve continued, taking advantage of Bucky's current condition. "Sergeant Barnes is the only one who is familiar enough with the shield to handle it properly if things go south."

"If that's the only criterion, Barton or Wilson are an excellent choice," Fury pointed out as Bucky straightened up, glaring at Steve and his unnaturally pointy elbows.

Steve just shook his head. "Neither of them can catch the shield at full speed. It took me months to build up tolerance; the first few times I actually broke my hand catching it at speed."

Bucky whipped around to face his friend. "I don't remember that."

"Microbreaks," Steve explained with a dismissive wave. "They healed quickly." He shifted his weight from foot to foot, a nervous habit Barnes hadn't seen in years, then turned to face the Director. "The point is, Sergeant Barnes is the only one who could catch it repeatedly without further injuring himself."

Fury let out a deep sigh then stared critically at Bucky for a long moment. "Are you sure _you_ can't go?" he asked as he shot Steve a sidelong glance.

Rogers hesitated for a long moment, his face wrought with indecision. "I can't risk it, Director," he finally said. "Not with so many lives at stake."

Fury scowled so deeply Bucky was worried his forehead was going to crack.

Steve must have seen the same thing for he quickly added, "If it helps, sir, Bucky did lift Mjölnir."

"I heard he had a little help."

Now it was Bucky's turn to scowl at the implications of the Director's words. It was true that, after he and Steve had both failed to lift Mjölnir on their own, they'd had tag-teamed it—they'd also practically fallen on their asses when it'd flown off the table, much to both of their surprises. Sure that meant he wasn't technically worthy on his own but he didn't appreciate Fury pointing out in such a condescending tone.

Before Bucky could spit out a sharp reply about who in the room hadn't lifted the hammer and therefore wasn't qualified to use that against him, Steve shot him a warning look.

"He still actively participated in lifting it, sir," Rogers stated, turning to face Fury. "I wasn't able to on my own."

There was a beat of silence before he added in a soft tone, "Bucky _is_ capable of doing this, Nick."

Fury looked at Barnes for a long moment, staring the former assassin right in the eye. "Is he telling the truth?" the Director asked, holding up his hand to deter Steve from answering. "Can you handle this?"

Still bristling, Bucky barely resisted replying, "I don't really have a choice." Instead, he just nodded, his lips clenched tightly together to keep the quip from escaping.

Fury's face scrunched in displeasure but he did finally nod. "Okay. Briefing's in the conference room in thirty," he said before sitting down in his chair and jiggling the mouse to bring his computer out of sleep. "You're dismissed."

"So what's first?" Bucky asked Steve as they walked out of Fury's office

"You shave," Steve motioned to the scruff lining Bucky's jaw. "Then meet me in the gym. We don't have much time to teach you how to be me."

* * *

"This is never going to work," Bucky grumbled forty-two minutes later as he stepped out of one of the changing room stalls in one of SHIELD's many training rooms. He was wearing Steve's World War II uniform, which Edna had repaired after the Fall of the Triskellion, since it was bulkiest and would best hide the differences in their heights and statures. Still, Bucky thought it was obvious from the way the suit hung just a little bit too loose in the shoulders, just a little too long in the legs and just a little too tight over his left arm, that someone besides Steve was wearing it. Even with the heel lifts in Steve's boots, which he'd had to lace tighter than usual in order to stay on his feet, there was enough difference to make it noticeable to anyone looking really closely.

"Try it with the helmet," Steve said from outside the bathroom, reaching back with his right arm so it dangled off his hand. Bucky obediently put it on and fastened the strap under his chin before taking another look in the bank of mirrors above the communal sinks. His initial thought was that he looked damn good, but that was quickly swallowed by the feeling that this was oh so wrong for him to be wearing that suit.

After a second, Steve poked his head into the bathroom. "Looks pretty convincing to me."

"I'm pretty sure you're required to say that," Bucky grimaced, "considering this is your plan and all." He then picked up the vocal synthesizer from the counter, peeled it away from a plastic backing and laid it over the front of his throat. The second it made contact, the white sheet automatically shifted color to match Bucky's skin tone. "How do I sound?" he asked, his voice being automatically adjusted to sound like Steve's.

"It's creepy," his friend stated with an exaggerated full-body shudder. "My voice coming from your mouth."

"I agree."

"Almost ready?" a woman's voice asked. Since Steve was in the doorway, Bucky tilted his head to the left to see Alice, the mission tech's, reflection in the mirror. She was standing in the training room entrance and tapping on her tablet. As if sensing Bucky was watching her, she looked up and stared directly at Barnes's reflection. "Are you almost ready, Cap?" she repeated.

It took another split second before Bucky realized she was talking to him. "Don't call me that," he snapped.

"They have to, Buck," Steve was quick to interject. "Otherwise the perps will know something is up."

"Perps?" Bucky shot Steve a sidelong glance, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

Rogers made an unamused face. "I have to call them something. And he didn't give you his name."

"But _perps_?" Bucky winced when he again heard his voice come out as Steve's. "Can we turn off the synth thing for now?" he asked Alice.

"Of course." She looked down and made a few adjustments on her tablet, looking up after a split second. "Done."

"Thanks," Bucky said in his own voice. He then made a shooing motion with his hands and Steve responded by sliding out of the bathroom door. Bucky then walked out of the training room and shifted so he was facing Alice.

The tech smiled warmly then slid the tablet down her forearm on some sort of sleeve and pulled a plastic case containing a small black earbud from her pocket. "Here is your comm, Captain," she said, holding it out to him.

Bucky made a face at the title but forced himself to not react, knowing Steve and Alice were right. If they wanted to pull this off, it had to run as smoothly as any other mission which included the person in the red, white and blue outfit being referred to by his proper title.

Alice waited until Bucky'd placed the earbud in his ear before saying, "Comm check, line seven," in the mouthpiece of her headset.

"Seven secure," Bucky said as he slid the small earpiece deeper into his ear canal. "How much time do I have?"

"Fifteen til transpo, thirty-five til your meet and greet with the FBI," Alice recited as she handed an earwig to Steve and repeated the procedure. Then, her tablet chirped and she swiped at the message to open it. "Apparently Jason's done with the upgrades to your camera," she informed them. "I'll be right back."

As she walked away, Steve leaned backward, grabbed his shield which was resting outside the bathroom door and held it out to Bucky. "Don't forget what we practiced: if you're going to catch it full-force, only use your left hand. If you have to catch it with your right, grab it by the straps not the edge or let it ricochet off something first to decrease speed."

Bucky nodded, having heard that exact spiel no less than three times already. He held the shield in his hands almost reverently for a moment, then slung it on his back, hearing the soft hum of the magnet holding it in place.

He took one last look at himself and, for a split second, managed to convince even himself that people were going to be fooled.

"Do you need anything else?" Steve asked, drawing him from his thoughts.

Bucky turned slightly so Steve's shield was closest to the mirror and glanced over his shoulder, making a big show of inspecting the single, solitary weapon he'd been given. "Hmmm, yeah, what else," he muttered as if contemplative, crossing his arms and drumming his flesh fingers against the metal. Then he turned to Steve and demanded, "more weapons."

"Captain America doesn't carry any other weapons, Buck," Steve protested.

Barnes understood where Steve was coming from—it was a very real risk for him to go in with a gun, given that Steve hadn't worn one in years—but Bucky also knew he'd hadn't had much practice really using the shield aside from a few throws when Steve lost it in battle and their twenty minute training session this afternoon, so he couldn't risk the hostages' lives on him being able to use it perfectly. "I understand we're taking a chance, Steve, but if shit goes to hell, I need a back-up plan."

Steve must have realized the same thing since he hobbled over to the section of wall where the mini-armory was concealed. After he placed his palm print on the scanner, the weapons cage slid out of the wall and the locks on the metal wirework disengaged. Steve opened the cage, pulled out a M1911 and handed it to Bucky with a handful of magazines and his old holster.

"Hopefully that won't be too obvious."

"I'll make it work." Bucky slipped a magazine into the grip of the gun, pounded it into place with the heel of his left hand, then slid it into the holster in one smooth motion. He proceeded to strap the holster to his thigh before storing the extra ammunition into the pouches on Steve's ridiculously heavy belt.

As he straightened up, his gaze landed on a shiny new KA-BAR which he quickly sheathed and strapped to his ankle. He was mentally prepared to make an argument to Steve, but his friend just exhaled loudly in concession. "Try not to use it."

"I honestly hope I don't have to." For a split second, Bucky considered taking more weapons but knew this was probably pushing his luck as is. Depending on what the "perps" had planned, he might not be able to get them in the building at all.

"There's one more thing, Buck," Steve began as Alice walked back into the room, balancing two tablets end-to-end, a coffee, and a small box which most likely contained the camera. "You're going to have to keep the swearing to a minimum."

Bucky had known as much but, _just because_ Steve had felt the need to say it, he proceeded to swear up a streak so blue that Alice's ears reddened slightly.

"That's a perfect example of what not to do," Steve deadpanned when Bucky was finished, apparently unfazed by the colorful display of language.

Fortunately, Alice recovered quickly and stepped forward to secure a small camera, which would provide a visual for the backup team, beside the silver star on Bucky's chest.

"Delta team, any updates?" Steve addressed the comms while Alice made sure the camera was transmitting.

Jenn Richards, their sniper, who was situated in a building across the way, was first to report. "Visual on a masked man directly in front of the front doors. Carrying an M16. No hostages or other crew in sight."

"Nothing from North side," Leo Andrews spoke up.

"Negative from the East." That was from Trevor Sierra, followed by a, "No movement on the West exit," from Otto Rosing.

"Roger that," Barnes replied. He then turned to Alice and asked, "we good?"

She quickly nodded. "Both audio and video are transmitting perfectly."

Bucky turned back to face Steve, who reached out and adjusted the straps of the shield holder almost absently.

"Wish this was you instead of me?" Bucky couldn't help but ask, seeing the way Steve's gaze flicked around as if racking his brain to ensure he remembered everything.

"Kinda," Steve shrugged.

"Me too."

Steve just reached out and grabbed Bucky's shoulder, squeezing slightly; surprisingly, that gesture reassured Barnes more than any impromptu speech.

"It's time," Alice piped up, interrupting the silent pep talk.

"Go get 'em, Cap," Steve said, with a warm yet slightly sad smile on his face, as he dropped his hand and took a cautious step away from the door. "I'll be here when you get back."

"You're not coming with?" Bucky asked in surprise.

"Can't," Rogers groused, shaking his head unhappily. "The press is camped out in front of the lab. If they catch sight of me, your cover is blown."

"Oh. Well, that makes sense," Bucky offered lamely, feeling unexpectedly disappointed by this turn of events.

"It does," Steve admitted with a scowl. He then switched to nodding fervently as if to convince himself. "I'll be on the comms though, if you need anything."

Before Bucky could reply, Alice interjected. "I really must insist we head out Captain or we're going to miss the deadline."

"Alright, alright," Bucky muttered as he followed Alice out of the room. Just when he was standing in the doorway of the adjacent loading dock, a memory hit him like a bolt of lightning and, before he could repress the instinct, he called, "Don't do anything stupid 'til I get back."

He forced himself not to look over his shoulder but did hear Steve snort out a laugh. "How can I," his friend began after a second's pause but the rest of his response was lost in the sound of the mobile van's engine humming to life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry about the wait. Hope you enjoy the final part of _Under the Gun!_**

* * *

Forty-seven minutes later, Bucky hopped out of the FBI HRT van where he'd been talking with SAC Jones about the situation at Exodus labs. Since it was almost closing time on a Friday, most of the lab had been empty anyway, with those who had lingered being evacuated after the fire alarm had been pulled. Jones' team had spoken with the last few employees, as well as the security guards who had patrolled the area before being evacuated themselves by the FBI, and had confirmed that there were indeed ten people who hadn't clocked out, but were no longer in the building. The FBI had then grabbed the security footage but had only found a few minutes of five masked men entering the building and heading straight to the labs in the basement before the feed went dead. So, besides the man who had called Now! and the masked man currently standing guard at the main entrance to the labs, there were three more armed men Bucky might have to deal with.

As he walked slowly up to the lab, he saw more than a few camera flashes and ducked his head, hoping the half-block perimeter the FBI had set-up combined with the Captain America outfit would hide his true identity. Even with his head down, however, he was still able to scan his surroundings for any traps or snipers. "No external surveillance besides you guys," he muttered into the comms as he climbed the massive front steps leading up to the entrance.

Bucky spared only a quick second to be glad Rogers, who couldn't walk up stairs without holding onto the handrail, had decided to not go on this mission before he reached the landing, at which point he saw the man Richards had mentioned stop pacing and manually force open the sliding doors from the inside. He froze as the guard's M16 shifted in his direction but the masked man just used it to silently motion Bucky inside.

"Are you armed?" the henchman growled after he slid the door closed and jammed a thick wooden dowel into its track.

It took great effort on Bucky's part but he was able to bite back his smart comment about how both the shield and his waist holster were in full view, knowing it wasn't something Steve would say. "Yes," he ground out instead.

He was half-expecting the man to search him and relieve him of the aforementioned weapons, but the masked man just nodded, almost approvingly, then motioned for Bucky to follow him deeper into the deserted laboratory.

"Talk to me guys," Barnes muttered as they passed two more armed guards but only received static in response. He half-hoped he was just in a dead zone but knew, more likely than not, the signal had been jammed.

They took an elevator down to the basement, which corroborated the security guards' account, and from there, walked down a long hallway to the room at the very end, where the guard tapped on the door twice, once then twice more in quick succession.

While he was doing this, Bucky pretended to adjust his chin strap so he could talk into the comms without being detected. "Come in, base," he hissed but received the same empty response as earlier.

His attention snapped back to the room when he heard something moving on the other side of the door. Seconds later, it swung open, revealing the last armed man who immediately motioned with the barrel of his gun for Bucky to enter.

As soon as Bucky stepped into the room, his gaze locked onto the enclosed glass structure, about 7X7, in the center of the room. The hostages were bunched in one corner of the enclosure, all of them gagged with their hands zip-tied together. It also appeared that the hostages weren't huddled together willingly, judging by the perpendicular zipties connecting their wrists. Fortunately, Bucky was able to hear and see signs of motion—heavy breathing, scuffles, sniffles—so the hostages were, for now at least, alive.

Surrounding the glass structure was a large open space, which was ringed by tables, machines and other typical lab equipment forced up against the walls of the main room. Bucky's breath caught in his throat at the sight of the lab equipment but, with great effort, he tamped down on his own fear down: he needed to be clear-minded if he wanted this to play out well.

While he leveled his breathing, he continued his scan of the room, noting the cameras in the corners of the ceiling, before his gaze landed on a middle-aged man sitting on a table in the far corner, typing away on a public computer. Surprisingly, he was not wearing a mask, which allowed Bucky to see his thinning hair, round face and narrow eyes; the former Winter Soldier instantly committed the face to memory.

A split second later, the balding man looked up over the computer monitor, his face immediately lighting up as he realized who was there. "Captain America! You're a hard man to track down!" he crooned. Then, he rose to his feet and walked over toward where Bucky and the guard were standing at a painstaking pace, seemingly unfazed by the gravity of the entire situation.

While this was occurring, the first guard walked back into the hallway and closed and locked the door behind him, leaving only Bucky and the fifth guard in the room with the balding man.

When said man was finally close enough, he extended his right hand to Bucky. "It's a pleasure to meet you in person, Captain. I'm Dr. Cullen."

"What do you want?" Bucky demanded, not obliging the handshake.

Cullen stared at his outstretched hand for a moment, almost in confusion, then pulled it back with a frown on his face. "Straight to the point I see."

"With hostages, I can't do it any other way."

"They were just bait to lure you here," Cullen said with an almost dismissive nod. "They were never in any danger…Actually, if you'd've shown your face a little more in the past few weeks, we wouldn't have needed them at all."

"Been busy," Bucky replied, trying his hardest to think of what Steve would say. "But I'm here now. You can let them go."

The man tsk-ed at Bucky. "I think not. They're still leverage to ensure you cooperate."

The hair on the back of Bucky's neck stood straight up and his gut began churning uncertainly. "Cooperate with _what_?"

"You'll see." The man actually giggled before he pulled a phone from his back pocket and began tapping away on it.

From the far side of the room, by where Cullen had been sitting, Bucky heard a creak of metal. All the muscles in his body tensed and he forced himself to not go for his gun as an ordinary looking man clad only in a set of basketball shorts stepped into the light.

"This is Alpha Eight," the doctor said, motioning grandly toward the shirtless man.

"What do you want, Cullen?" Bucky repeated, ignoring the new arrival but keeping a close eye on him in his periphery.

"I thought it was obvious," the doctor replied, pushing his glasses back up onto his nose. "I want to see how Alpha Eight holds up against someone with superhuman abilities."

The uneasy feeling in Bucky's abdomen increased tenfold. "Holds _up_?"

Cullen just smiled widely, almost grotesquely, as he tapped again on his phone. "I'd get ready, Captain," he warned as he looked up, a maniacal gleam in his eye.

At that same moment, Alpha Eight groaned and dropped his head against his chest, his whole body physically slackening. Then his head shot up, his eyes flashing yellow and his hands twitching spasmodically.

Bucky reached his gun but, realizing that wouldn't be Steve's first response, grabbed for his shield instead. As he pulled it over his shoulder, he vaguely heard the door being slammed and locked and spared half a second's glance to see Cullen and the guard in what looked like an observation room with a thick reinforced glass door between them.

He and the hostages were stuck in the main room with Alpha Eight.

Fantastic.

With his brain screaming at him to protect the hostages, Bucky sprinted forward, looking for the door to the glass area. He headed around the right side of the enclosure to avoid Alpha Eight who was stumbling forward on the left. He finally spotted a recessed handle in the glass and gave it a tug, feeling no give. That was fine with him—if he couldn't get in with his enhanced strength, the hostages were as good as safe behind the thick glass for the present.

"Like I said earlier," Cullen's voice boomed in stereo. "The hostages are, and will continue to be, fine."

"You'll forgive me if I don't believe you," Bucky muttered, continuing around the enclosure to come up behind Alpha Eight.

The shirtless man immediately whipped around with a speed belying his slow uneven stumble. He was gasping for breath, his bare chest heaving as his hands clenched and unclenched rhythmically.

They stood there for a moment, Bucky trying to decide what his next plan of attack was while Alpha Eight just panted, until Cullen's voice rang out again: "Attack, Alpha Eight!"

The shirtless man stood there for a long moment, a dejected look on his face, before he nodded and lurched forward. It was at that moment that Bucky knew Alpha Eight was not there of his own volition, that he was somehow being controlled, and he instantly decided he was going to save Alpha Eight from both Cullen and himself so he could be deprogrammed when this was all over.

In order to do that though, he needed a new plan.

He thought back to when he had been Alpha Eight and Steve was wearing the uniform and tried his best to remember what Steve had said and how he had acted. "You know you don't have to do this," Bucky began as he slid the shield onto his forearm and held out both hands pacifyingly.

Alpha Eight responded by jabbing to his right, following the step with a right hook. Bucky countered by throwing up Steve's shield but, instead of throwing his own punch, he just stepped further out of Alpha Eight's reach.

"We can figure out another way." Another jab. Another deflection. "Whatever Cullen wants from you, we'll find a way around it."

"No." Suddenly, Alpha Eight's body began vibrating so quickly it looked like he was moving. Barnes took two large steps back, shucked the shield back in front of him, then spared a quick glance at the hostages who were all cowering against the wall of the glass enclosure but still seemed (relatively) unharmed.

With a horrible sucking sound, Alpha Eight _unzipped_ from head to toe, so there were two of him standing side-by-side in front of Bucky. They didn't even exchange glances before they both attacked.

"Guys we have a problem," Bucky yelled, hoping his backup would somehow hear him as he dodged a fist from Clone 1 and came up behind Clone 2. He lashed out with the shield, hitting Clone 2 in the back of the head. The man stumbled but didn't fall, and instead spun around to charge Bucky, his eyes flashing yellow and his mouth set into a grotesque sneer. Barnes countered with a roundhouse blow that sent Clone 2 crumpling to the ground.

As he was turning to face the other clone, Barnes heard another horrible squelching.

"Cap to base!" he shouted as two clones lunged for him. He ducked under a punch and kicked at a knee, dodged a blow with his shield then spun out of reach. "I could really use some backup!"

"They can't hear you," Cullen's voice boomed over the intercom.

"What did you do to him, Cullen!" Bucky shouted as he took out another clone…just before he heard _the_ _sound_ again. He whirled around, seeing the man on his left had divided himself and backpedaled to keep all the clones in view.

"I made him unique. Special. I turned him into a weapon."

Rage rose within Bucky at Cullen's words but, before he could reply, he had to deal with the oncoming men. He matched blows with the three clones, tempering his hits and settling for hard but not unnecessarily lethal.

As he dodged an uppercut from the rightmost clone, Cullen spoke again. "But you know what that's like, Captain. It's what happened to your friend, Bucky."

Barnes saw red and easily took out closest clone, swinging and punching harder than he originally wanted before he was able to reign himself back in.

"I appear to have hit a nerve."

Just as he opened his mouth to reply, a sharp blow to his jaw sent his head whipping around. Bucky stumbled backward but quickly regained his balance, just managing to throw his shield up in time to block another blow. In that instant, he heard a muffled shriek and looked over to see two clones banging on the glass wall protecting the hostages.

Bucky threw the shield without thinking and it smacked into the man closest to the glass, ricocheted off the far wall and whizzed back to knock over the second man. In that time though, the last clone he had been facing had replicated twice and two newly formed comrades made their move in unison, coming at him from opposite sides. They managed to land a few blows before Bucky could knock them out. The fight took longer than expected though, which meant the shield flew uselessly by overhead on its return trip. It hit the ground a few yards away and skittered across the shiny lab floor.

He scrambled toward the shield but whipped around midway across the lab when he heard a horrible crashing sound. There was now a starburst pattern in one of the glass walls of the enclosure, thanks to the metal chair bouncing away in the other direction. Not far away, one of the clones Bucky thought he'd taken out with the shield was reaching for another chair—apparently he wasn't as skilled with the shield as Steve had been hoping.

"Cullen, you said they'd be safe!" Bucky shouted as he launched himself toward the enclosure but his ankle was caught by yet another clone. He kicked back, the heel of his combat boot against someone's chin and freed himself.

"They should be."

Ice ran through Bucky's veins at the tone of the Cullen's voice. "What do you mean? What's going on?" he demanded as he hauled himself to his feet and took out the clone who had cracked the enclosure glass as the ghastly splitting sound sounded behind him.

"Alpha Eight should be locked onto a target. Jenkins, run diagnostics."

Without warning, something landed on Bucky's back, sending him crashing into the ground. By the time he dealt with that clone and was back on his feet, he heard a truly horrific sound of glass shattering. He looked up to see the hostages, now standing, huddled directly opposite a shattered glass wall.

Bucky scrambled to his feet, grabbed the one who had broken the glass by the waist of his shorts and threw him across the room.

"Go on, get out of here!" he shouted at the hostages, adding frantic motions with his hands for good measure. The hostages nodded then, with stifled sobs, began inching toward the newly formed opening.

"Let them go, Cullen! I'm here. You don't need them." With no clones in arm's reach, Bucky spared a second to look at the observation room to emphasize his demand and his stomach dropped to his knees when he saw the panicked expression on Cullen's face.

"Of course," the balding doctor said into the mic, his voice thin. "Closest door is behind you."

Bucky swarmed around the group as they crept toward the door, swinging, clawing and punching any clone who came close. When the little huddle was within two feet of the door, the lock clicked open and two armed men appeared. Bucky immediately went for his gun, but the guards trained their weapons over Bucky's shoulders at the oncoming clones while they ushered the hostages into the hallway. When the last one had passed, Bucky stepped forward, ready to follow, but stopped when the guns swiveled around to be trained on his chest.

"Not you," one said in heavily accented English, fear flashing over his face, before the thick door to the hallway slammed closed.

Bucky swore, then whirled back around to see six clones approaching in a semi-circle, trapping him.

"How do I stop them, Cullen!?" Bucky shouted, launching himself at the closest one.

"I'm trying." Then there was another crashing sound and a harsh sprinkling of glass. Bucky didn't have to look up to know that was the observation room door. He punched the clone in the face and took off across the room. Cullen was the only one who knew how to stop Alpha Eight. As much as Bucky wanted to let him pay for his crime, he needed to be protected until the threat was neutralized.

As Bucky crossed the room, he saw a flash of red, white and blue and realized one clone was wielding Steve's shield—had probably used it to break the glass. The armed guard with Cullen pulled out a weapon and fired but it was uselessly deflected. The clone continued forward and, with a quick motion, swiped at Cullen with the flat of the shield, sending him flying through the air, before pulling the shield back in front of him and blocking three quick bullets from the guard. Bucky poured on the speed and launched himself into the room, feeling the glass shards framing the door grate against the plates of his uniform. He picked up the first thing he saw—a corded phone—and hurled it at the lead clone, smashing him in the back of the head. The clone stumbled forward but, before he had recovered, Bucky had wrenched the shield out of his hand and used it to knock the clone unconscious.

"Where's the phone?" Bucky shouted at the guard. The barrel of the rifle slid his way in response but, just as Bucky ducked down behind the shield and braced himself for impact, the guard kicked a small object toward him, his eyes and gun never leaving the oncoming men.

Bucky picked the phones up and pecked at it with his right hand, bringing forth a screen full of digital switches. "Set phasers to stun," he ordered the guard as he flipped the first switch. The lights in the lab instantly went off. Bucky quickly flipped that one back on as Hydra hadn't given him the ability to see in the dark.

"Do what?" the guard asked as the horde of clones approached.

"Injure, don't kill," Bucky snapped, togging the second switch...which just locked and unlocked the door to the hallway. The third appeared to have done nothing, until the static in his ear kicked up to a deafening volume.

"Captain?" SAC Jones queried anxiously.

"It's about time," Bucky shouted as he continued to flip the rest of the switches, none of which slowed down the clones. "I need help!"

He slid the phone into one of the pouches in his belt, then turned back to the armed guard. "How does Cullen usually stop him?"

"The phone. It's wired to take out the original."

"Well that's obviously not working. Second idea?"

Before the guard could answer, Steve's voice interjected over the comms. "Cap, what's the situation!?"

"Enhanced male. Makes multiples of himself. Hostages are—were—safe." Bucky dodged out of the way of another clone then turned to the armed guard. "Get your buddies in here."

The man took his eyes away from the clones to stare blankly at Bucky. "They don't help, Alpha Eight is going through that door anyway. You want to be responsible for a whole city's demise?" Bucky shouted in great frustration.

The guard fired twice then tilted his head toward the mic clipped to his shoulder. "We need your help," he began. Bucky tuned out the rest and focused on the closest clone, who was wielding a large piece of pipe, previously hanging from the ceiling. They circled for a minute before the clone lunged. Bucky jumped out of the way, coming up behind the man and taking him in a choke hold. Someone else began pounding on his back so Bucky spun out of the way, still maintaining his grip on the first clone.

"Hostages are in the hallway with up to three armed guards," he grunted into the mic. "Cullen—the leader—is down. His usual method of disabling them didn't work."

"What do you need?" Jones asked.

"Get your asses in here and help!"

The door to the hallway banged open too quickly to be the FBI so Bucky knew it must be the rest of Cullen's men.

"You shoot me, I will kill you," he shouted at them before throwing the clone in his hands toward two approaching guards and sending the shield sailing after the three clones crowding Cullen's fifth guard in the observation room.

"Incoming Cap," Jones said and, in the distance, he heard oncoming footfalls.

"They're not working on their own volition," Bucky shouted into the comms. "Be non-lethal if possible."

"Copy that. Two minutes to entry."

"There!" one of the guards shouted, pointing to the far side of the room where one man was standing apart from the rest, his fingers pressed to his temples, his face covered in blood. "The original!"

Bucky took a step forward and, suddenly all the clones turned to face him in an eerie unison.

"Less than two would be great!" he shouted as he sprinted toward the original Alpha Eight—he didn't have to look over his shoulder to know he was being followed by the remaining clones.

A white-hot pain lanced along his calf, bringing his sprint to a near-crashing halt. He spun around, shield braced in front of him, and evaluating the oncoming attack. Then he sent the shield launching in one direction while he attacked from the other. He heard more than saw the other guards jump into the fray but focused mainly on wielding the shield as he'd been taught, to take out the maximum number of clones possible.

"Stop the original," one of Cullen's guards said, taking a harsh blow to the jaw. "We can handle them."

Bucky nodded, his eyes flitting around to once again locate the blood-smeared Alpha Eight. After a split second, he spotted him on on the far side of the room, hands cradling his head, practically doubled in half.

"Alpha Eight!" Bucky called as he covered the distance between them in mere seconds. As soon as he was in a ten-foot radius, Alpha Eight immediately took a step backward and began vibrating.

"You don't have to do this!" Bucky called out, from behind the safety of the shield. "Cullen is down. You can just stop. We know he was manipulating you."

"I can't," the man replied in a gravelly voice.

"You can fight it!" Bucky found himself shouting. "You're stronger than his programming."

Alpha Eight looked up and made eye contact with Bucky for the first time since they'd faced off against each other. His eyes were still glowing yellow but there was a split second when he looked almost apologetic before his features hardened. "I'm…sorry," he said as the vibrating kicked up another notch.

Bucky knew he didn't have a choice but it pained him physically all the same. The shield was sent flying across the room, crashing into Alpha Eight's head and knocking him to the ground. Bucky caught the shield, which had bounced off the far wall, but held it prepped in case Alpha Eight stirred. He needn't have worried though—the man remained still.

It was only then that he realized people were surrounding him—Jones' team, he belatedly realized. Unable to speak, he just took a step back and let them go about securing their prisoner.

It took another moment after that for him to realize someone was yelling in his ear.

Steve.

"Cap, are you alright?" his friend demanded, his voice fraught with concern.

Bucky swallowed hard then managed to say, "I'm fine…Dugan," he added, not wanting to out Steve over the comms. "Be on my way soon." He looked up as SAC Jones approached. In the distance, her team was securing the clones and loading them onto gurneys while the paramedics began looking over the hostages.

"You did good Cap," Jones said as her team began rolling the unconscious clones out of the room.

"What's going to happen to them?" Bucky demanded, tilting his head toward Alpha Eight and the gurneys wheeling by.

"Depends on a lot of factors: how long the clones last, whether they're permanent or can get..." she shrugged, "...reabsorbed. In either case, we get whoever we can the help they deserve. As for Alpha Eight, I think you said his name was, there's a whole division at SHIELD ready to undo what was done to him."

Bucky felt the knot in his chest loosen slightly. "Glad to hear it." Then he remembered the phone and pulled it from his pocket, handing it over to Jones. "This was Cullen's. He hacked into the lab but was also using it to control Alpha Eight."

"We'll take good care of it," Jones promised.

"And the hostages?"

"None of them sustained serious injuries. Andersen, the executive, was the only one who appeared to have been forcibly subdued but even he shows no signs of concussion."

"That's good news." Not sure what else Steve would say, Bucky fell silent, hoping Jones would pick up the slack. She, however, remained equally non-verbal, obviously waiting for him to continue as well. "Am I needed?" Barnes finally asked, as the voice in his ear was annoyingly silent. "I have another situation—"

"No, Captain," she said, almost with a smile, "you're free to go. Thank you."

Bucky wanted nothing more than to just nod but he knew Steve would say something frilly and elegant about the civilian's involvement. After a split second's thought, he spoke up. "No, Agent Jones, thank _you_ for all your hard work today. The mission could have run a lot less smoothly than it did."

Jones nodded, though the corners of her mouth slid slightly upward. "It was our pleasure, Cap."

Before he could repress the instinct, Bucky winced at the name, hoping the mask hid it and took off for the SHIELD van.

"Home, James," he ordered as soon as the doors were closed behind him, as he stripped off his mask and voice synthesizer.

"We're required to go back to base, sir."

"That's fine. Just get me out of here," Bucky responded, dropping into a bench and bruising his back as he forgot about the shield. Grumbling under his breath, he pulled it over his shoulder and rested it against his knee.

"You okay Cap?" Steve asked, a few long moments later.

"Long time no hear."

"Wasn't my fault. Coulson left an overeager probie to look after me and she made me have an ice bath in order to get my comm back. Thankfully she wasn't above reason and waited until you had the situation under control to—"

"Captain Rogers!" At the ear-piercing shrill coming over the comms, Bucky quickly pulled out his earwig and rested it in the shell of his ear. He had to strain to pick up the next part of the woman's words but it was better than permanent hearing loss. "Your knee is supposed to be elevated!"

"I don't have long," Steve whispered hurriedly into the comms. "You okay, really?"

"I'll be fine," Bucky said, hoping that wasn't a lie. "See you soon."

* * *

When they finally pulled up to SHIELD loading dock, Bucky found Steve sitting on the raised platform, arms crossed over his chest, his leg elevated on another chair, a worried-looking agent standing behind him.

"Bucky!" Rogers cried, launching himself to his feet, much to the dismay of the agent who was supposed to be watching him.

"Stand down Irene. I'm back," Coulson stated as he emerged from the tact van.

Bucky hopped out of the back of the van, easily swung himself onto the raised platform, then immediately dropped into a kneel, holding out Steve's shield with his head bowed. "Take it back!" he pleaded. "I don't want it."

Steve's face was etched with concern. "Buck! I thought you said everything went fine!"

Bucky clutched dramatically at his chest. "The responsibility. It sucks the life out of you. The concern for everyone else is just…crushing! I don't know how you do it. It's a wonder your hair isn't grey already!"

By now, Steve must have realized that, though he was expressing his true feelings, Bucky was exaggerating slightly for comic effect. "It couldn't have been that bad," he said lightly as he took the shield from Bucky and ran his hand around its edge. "You got everyone out, Alpha Eight is safely in SHIELD custody, and Cullen is alive and will be telling us what exactly he did to Alpha Eight in case we can reverse it. I call that a win."

"But still—I don't think I've ever been that stressed in my life. It's not an experience I want to repeat."

The lighthearted energy in the room immediately dissipated as a deep frown etched itself into Steve's face. "So you don't ever want to be Captain America?"

"Hell no," Bucky replied, staring in confusion at his friend. "Why?" he continued after seeing Steve's frown deepen. "Did you want me to?"

Steve shrugged. "Maybe one day. If I wanted to walk away from all this…" Then he shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. "It's nothing. Forget I mentioned it."

But it was far too late for that. It took everything Bucky had to keep his jaw from dropping to the ground. _Steve wanted him to be Captain America!_

 _One day,_ his brain interjected. _Not now._

Close enough.

"Well," Barnes reconsidered, drawing out the final letter, "maybe it wasn't... _all_ bad."

"Bucky, you don't have to—"

Barnes held up his hand. "Let's not rule anything out just yet: you have a long time of doing this yet." He shifted his weight back and forth then added, "But, yeah, maybe _one day,_ that wouldn't be quite so terrible….As long as I get more than fifteen minutes of training with the shield."

A small smile crossed Steve's face as he reached out and pulled Bucky into a sideways hug. "You can count on it."

They stood that way for a moment until Bucky's stomach rumbled…loudly. Steve threw back his head and laughed. "C'mon Buck," he said as he began limping toward the cafeteria. Since his arm was still wrapped around Bucky, the former Winter Soldier was pulled along as well. "Let's get you something to eat."

* * *

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